Linger This Time
by a. loquita
Summary: Following the events of “Enemy at the Gate” significant changes have been made in the Stargate program. It's the little moments where Sam and Jack struggle to adapt to change. S/J


Title: Linger this Time  
Pairing: Sam/Jack  
Warnings/spoilers: Spoilers for Enemy at the Gate  
Word count: ~3,000  
A/N: Special thanks for the incredible beta work done by both mrspollifax and supplyship  
"Time does not change us. It just unfolds us." ~ Max Frisch

* * *

Jack O'Neill sat down on a bar stool in Dirty Harry's Pub and Grill. Harry himself (though not particularly dirty) worked behind the bar this evening. Given the early hour, Reynolds and Dixon were the only other patrons. Jack noticed the clock, as always, hanging behind the bar. It was mirrored and strange-looking but Jack liked it because it had no numbers, only the reflection of the second hand as it ticked along.

"Hey, why the long face? Life ain't so bad," Harry teased while serving a beer. "Nothin' the arms of a good woman can't cure."

"Easy," Jack warned.

Harry grinned. The two men had known each other a little back in the SGC days only, but the friendship really began to take shape after Harry retired and opened his place in the Springs.

"How is Rita?" Jack asked, referring to Harry's wife, a researcher whom Harry'd first met at the SGC. She was of course transferred to Atlantis when the integration of the two programs had taken place. It had been a massive undertaking that started about a month after Atlantis landed off the coast of San Francisco.

"Rita's good. Busy, but good."

"Glad to hear it."

Suddenly, laughter boomed from the direction of Reynolds and Dixon. Jack glanced their way.

"They're good boys, Jack, letting off a little steam."

"Yeah." Jack sipped his beer. It seemed everyone was happy these days except him, and worse, he had absolutely no right to be having those feelings.

Part of it, he knew, was the natural adjustment to retirement. He'd done it enough times before to recognize the stages. First, euphoria. Second, shock. Third, trying like hell to find something to do that didn't make you feel useless and/or bored. Of course, his moving from stage one into the other stages might have had a little to do with the "arms of a good woman" disappearing.

"How's business?" Jack asked, both as a subject changer and because he was actually interested. After all, it was his hard-won arguments that had given Harry the chance to move from Colorado Springs and reopen his bar in the city of Atlantis as the first civilian-run business here.

It helped that Harry already knew of the program and had clearance in the past. Also, there was the IOA's promise of opening up the program, eventually allowing all the people stationed here to have their families living in the city with them — well, they needed to start somewhere to make that promise come true. Jack had argued that former SGC personnel provided a good place to start; bonus if they knew how to run a bar.

Even now, in retirement, Jack was still championing the cause of bringing Atlantis to its full glory, populating it not only with military and scientists, but also with schools, restaurants, shops, and more. If they were ever going to consider lowering the shield and introducing Atlantis to the rest of Earth, starting to build it back up as a functioning city was the first step.

It was an effort that was keeping Jack busy, and strangely also had the ability to make Daniel's jaw drop. So, good all around.

Harry flashed another smile at Jack. "Changing the subject so you won't think about her?

"Business, Harry," Jack reminded.

"Been doin' great. But just like you, things will really start to look up when the_ General Hammond_ returns next week."

Jack made a non-committal grunt in response.

* * *

Jack paced in the corridor. Despite popular opinion that it was all about the beer, _this_ was precisely the reason he'd been so insistent that the Pentagon and the IOA allow more civilian-run businesses in the city. No guy should have to go through this much of an ordeal simply to get flowers for a woman. It was embarrassing.

"Sir."

Jack whirled around. "Got 'em?"

"Mission accomplished," Sheppard replied, handing over a bouquet of exotic pink and yellow flowers.

"Thanks." Jack tried to offer money, but Sheppard put up his hands in protest.

"Not necessary; it was my pleasure. Besides, the look on Rodney's face when I stopped to pick flowers halfway back to the gate was worth more than you could pay me."

"Right." Now how to get out of a conversation with a man who'd just given you flowers? Jack nodded sternly. "Well done, Colonel. Dismissed."

Sheppard wisely pretended that O'Neill was still an active General, replying with a formal, "Yes, Sir," as he turned to leave. O'Neill realized he hadn't even thought to ask Sheppard if the wellness check-in with the people of P80-555 had gone well or not. Bigger things on his mind, apparently.

* * *

From his current vantage point, Jack could see out one of Atlantis' windows that happened to not be stained with fancy colors and patterns. Beyond the water lay the skyline of San Francisco, bridges, buildings, and the mountains. It made for an impressive sight. But the water held his attention today; from this height it appeared solid and unmoving, yet he knew that the surface was never calm.

Daniel exited the conference room and stopped short at the sight of Jack O'Neill slouched on a bench in the corridor.

"Jack?"

"They about done in there?"

"No." Daniel glanced back. "Uh, I'm sure if you wanted to, Landry'd let you—"

"No, no. Just waiting."

"Right."

Jack raised both eyebrows. "And you're leaving the briefing because…"

"Too much coffee this morning."

"Ah."

"Jack—"

"Go take your wiz, Daniel," Jack said in_ that_ tone. The one that meant leave me alone, leave it alone, I don't want to talk about it, and if you poke at me I'll get even grouchier.

Jack was sure Daniel was tempted. But then again, Daniel would weigh the fact that Sam didn't deserve to come home to a grouchy man the first night.

"OK," Daniel said, drawing it out. Apparently Jack guessed right and Daniel's loyalty to Sam won out, he left it at that one word and turned down the corridor. Jack figured he had until breakfast, at the most, before Daniel attempted to get under his irritation to see what was there. Just for kicks.

Jack went back to looking out windows. He liked the clear ones, while Carter always commented on how much she loved the stained glass, something about the math behind the patterns. He wondered if it was truly the math she couldn't get away from, or that she was unable to look past what was right in front of her and see the ocean beyond.

* * *

Jack's sleep-fogged brain came awake slowly. He realized that he was naked. He never slept naked when he was alone, only when… he smiled, remembering that Carter was home.

She'd been involved in an annoyingly long briefing yesterday, but after that, he'd taken her out for burgers and beers at Harry's. They slow-danced to "My Girl" playing on the jukebox, and she'd beaten Mitchell at pool but lost to Vala. Jack suspected that last one was on purpose, because she was more than ready to leave by that point. After they got back to their quarters, well, she certainly showed her appreciation for the fact that he'd thought to get her flowers.

Now, Jack reached over to find Sam and gather her up against him again, but his hand closed around nothing but sheets.

"Sorry," Sam whispered in the dark, somehow sensing that he was awake.

He sat up and watched her pull on a top and sit down on the edge of the bed to tie her shoes. The scene was all very domestic, as if they could be any couple in any city woken up by a phone call in the middle of the night. Well, if you ignored the fact that they were living in a city that was flown here to defend Earth from life-sucking aliens and that most of the time she was off being an intergalactic superhero. There was a strange re-adjustment period, he'd noticed, for the personal that remain on Atlantis while their loved ones are away.

He cleared his throat, "Something going on?"

"I don't know yet. They radioed me a few minutes ago, and I need to report to Landry's office."

Jack blinked at the clock. "It's three in the morning."

"So I assume whatever it is, it's urgent enough that it can't wait for the sun to rise."

She leaned over and kissed him, then she whispered, "Sorry."

"S'ok." Because it was, for the most part. "But this time, do you think you could save the world in like… less than an hour, so you can come back to bed soon?"

She kissed his forehead. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Jack sat in the commissary eating pie. Roberta, possibly his favorite person ever, or in the very least, his favorite person working in this sector of the city, had set aside the last piece of pecan pie for him. He was pretty sure that Roberta could care less that he was once a three-star general. Instead, she liked him because he always asked after her son, Shawn, who played linebacker for the Raiders.

Also, on special occasions, he'd give her a wink. It never failed to make her blush. Then she'd roll her eyes at him and admonish, "What will that blonde little pixie of yours think if she catches you flirtin' with me, Mr. O'Neill?"

He liked that she called him "Mr."

Jack was there eating pie when Vala found him and practically shoved Sam at him.

"Here," Vala said. "She's all yours."

Not that he was against the idea, but the presentation of it could use some work.

"What's going on?" About 35 hours had passed since the last time he'd seen Carter. He knew something was up with the city. Some kind of malfunction of blah, blah, blah.

All Jack needed to know was that it was not bad enough to warrant evacuating the city, but it was serious enough that Sam was working non-stop. So, basically, the kind of thing that happened every other week in their lives.

Vala put her hands on her hips. "She won't listen."

"She's standing right here," Sam said.

Vala gave the impression of ignoring the irritated tone in Sam's voice and continued to address Jack. "Samantha needs food, then sleep, and Landry doesn't want to see her anywhere near a computer for the next 12 hours."

"Everything fixed?" Jack addressed both ladies in general, not wanting to take sides in whatever wacky dynamic was going on between the two otherwise good friends.

"Basically fixed." Vala shot Sam a look that seemed to dare her to deny it. "McKay's handling restarting the last few systems."

"Vala—" Sam began.

"You won't listen to Landry, not to Daniel or me. Frankly, I'll grant you that the eyebrow thing from Teal'c isn't as intimidating once you get to know him, old softy that he is. So, I'm handing you over to the only person who can actually make you do something you don't want to do."

"I'm military," Sam reminded in that oh-so-special tone that Jack knew came out of hiding only when the mixture of exhaustion and aggravation were at optimal levels. "If Landry ordered me, I'd have to follow, but all he said was—"

"Not listening." Vala turned to Jack. "Withhold sex if you have to." Then she made a getaway.

Sam sighed heavily. "She's exaggerating, I hope you know."

Jack was fairly certain that much was true. Sam was a workaholic at times but she'd been getting much better in recent years. Still, she did look run down, it had only been a couple of days since she'd come home, and if the situation was no longer critical—

"I'll get you a sandwich to go," he said, handing over the last of his pie.

* * *

"It's not 'the mainland,' it's San Francisco."

Sam eyed him with wariness. "I know that."

Jack reconsidered. He shouldn't have come across as complaining; not only was it a Saturday and a day alone with Sam but also they were going to the beach. Granted, he'd seen her naked many times, but there was still something intoxicating about being on a beach with her while she was wearing nothing but a tiny scrap of a swimsuit. And hey, with her skin, he knew she'd need sunscreen reapplied every 30 minutes — he was more than happy to help with that because he was not above clichés when it came to Carter.

They spent the day walking along the sand, picking up shells and playing in the waves. For lunch, they ate crab at a little hut right on the beachfront. Sometime mid-afternoon, Sam fell asleep, a paperback resting on her stomach opened about a third of the way through.

The sun was setting when Sam returned from the showers, having changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and sat down next to him on his towel.

Despite his best efforts to get his hands on her as much as possible, Sam's skin had turned a slight shade of pink. There was a silence between them as the sun slipped below the horizon and the sky unveiled the bright colors of its character that were kept hidden all day long.

Finally Sam asked, "Why do you do it?"

Jack knew she used "it" on purpose because if she began listing all the things "it" stood for they might be here all night. The list began with "retirement" and somewhere in the middle were various aspects of their relationship, their past, guilt, sacrifices, independence, and he was certain that list ended with "put up with me."

"Because."

She closed her eyes. Jack knew she believed he was unwilling to be serious and talk, instead using flippant remarks to sidestep her. But that wasn't it. "Because" turned out to be all he honestly could give her.

Even though he couldn't see the city out there on the ocean, the thousands of people living there were experiencing the same sunset he and Carter were watching. Despite the science of it, really, it didn't make any sense. And yet an hour from now they would be in that city looking back on this beach from a different perspective.

* * *

Jack was brushing his teeth the next morning when she stepped into the bathroom and over to the second sink next to his. By the determination in her walk, he'd almost be fooled into believing that putting on her make-up right this very second held intergalactic life-saving significance.

"What are your plans for the day?" she asked casually. A little too casually.

"It's Beckett's day off, so we're going to do a little fishing off the East Pier."

"Ah." But she steeled her back, and he doubted it had to do with the choices in eye shadow colors she'd removed from the drawer.

He wondered if the head-on approach might have some merit at this point. "Do you want me to say that it was easier when I was in Washington and you were a galaxy away?"

She set the blush brush down on the counter. "It's what I expected you to say."

"I know."

She turned her head, not toward him but toward the window, a little round one he thought looked like the type on Navy ships. Carter was important to the program, so important that she got nice quarters with perks like a big bathroom with a window and a view. He had no doubt the accommodations would have been the same even if he wasn't sharing them with her. It was her time now.

"You honestly believe that one day they will lower the shield?" she asked, still looking outside.

"I don't know. But we've got to keep on working toward it and believe that it will happen."

She didn't react. If it had been a difficult mission she'd just returned from… he cut short his own thought. Too easy and too tempting to hang things on that, and he'd learned long ago not to go the easy route when it came to her.

Part of Jack wanted to shake her and repeat over and over, "Because I love you." But that wasn't going to help either and he knew it. This had never been about the feelings between them; it was always about the capacity to act on them, and that, surprisingly, had less to do with rules and roles than it might appear on the surface.

She turned back, but because of the angle they were at, she met his eyes through the mirror's image of him, indirectly.

"When I was a kid," she started slowly, "I'd ask my mom questions like how the toaster worked, or what made the stars twinkle, or why bears hibernate, and she'd answer 'Just because.' It drove me crazy."

"Are you saying I drive you crazy?"

A long moment passed where he felt something in the air sway, and it wasn't because the city was floating on water. She didn't blink or look away when she replied, "Only on your best days."

He gave her a devilish grin and with a touch of pride said, "Thanks."

She looked down quickly, but not before he caught brief traces of her smile, a slight shake of her head, the expression she got when she was holding back a snicker and trying not to be won over by his charms. It made him remember a time long gone when he had certain suspicions, especially when that look appeared. But he often wondered back then if he was reading her like he wanted to, not as she was. How far he'd come, Jack realized, because these days he got it all. He was even becoming skilled at reading the spaces between the words.

Sam picked up the make-up brushes again, and he suspected she was already late for her first meeting of the day. As he began to go check the time for her, she halted him, "Jack."

"Yes?"

"Just for the record, I think it's already happening. A little bit at a time."

"Yeah, me too."

In the bedroom, Jack glanced at the red numbers announcing it was 12 minutes after the hour. He'd never liked digital clocks, though until recently, he didn't have a reason why. Now, he was sure it had something to do with him becoming a firm believer that the best things in life happened in the seconds between what most people counted as important.


End file.
